It Just Happened That Way
by bananapancakes7
Summary: FOR THE AWKWARD CONTEST - Collaboration with queenofgrey - Some things take careful planning, some things never go as planned, & some things aren't planned at all. - E/B - Rated M for secondhand embarrassment & horrible sex.
1. Chapter 1

**The "AwkWard" Contest****  
****Story Title: It Just Happened That Way****  
****Pen name: queenofgrey & bananapancakes7 (collab)****  
****Disclaimer: Rated M for secondhand embarrassment & horrible sex**  
_To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:_  
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

* * *

The evening sky was growing pinker by the second and so were the apples of my cheeks. They started out white, the color of the crisp linen hanging on Edward's mother's clothes line, and flushed carnation pink at the mention of kisses. Edward's hand curled around mine and tugged me from the porch; my cheeks turned rosy as we neared the tree house that wound around the branches of the ancient oak across the yard. He let me climb up first, his hands ushering and aiding, and when I cleared the too-small doorway and my breathing turned quick and anticipatory as he, too, climbed inside, they flushed brighter – magenta.

Edward cleared his throat and sat in the corner as I stood, bent over in the home of our smaller, simpler youth, and felt intensely awkward.

"So, uh, you're really okay with this?" he asked, patting the floor in front of him. I eyed it warily and continued to stand, my palms running across the time-battered wooden ceiling. I chewed my lip as I thought of what was to come and my cheeks turned candy apple red at the thought of his lips on mine, the feel of a tongue foreign from my own brushing against the insides of my cheeks. I smiled demurely and nodded, my heart beating like a kick drum against my ribs. "'Cause if you're not sure, I don't want to—"

I sat, then, and scooted across the floor to him until my knobby knees touched his bruised ones and his mouth hung agape. I wiped my sweating palms across the back of my T-shirt before settling them into my lap, my thumbs fumbling together, twiddling, and I eyed him. There were definitely worse looking boys to give your first kiss. I had my heart set on him and his lips since I figured out that cooties weren't real, and that kissing actually looked like fun. He was my best friend – had been for as long as I could recall – and there just wasn't another option; it had to be him, because I was too scared to consider anyone else. Edward, with his wide eyes and shallow breathing, and the way he bent his back so he was tilted toward me, looked like he had his heart set on my lips, too. It had made perfect sense.

"We can't go into high school at a disadvantage," I told him, nodding sternly, and he nodded, too. "You're my best friend. I'd rather mess it up with you, instead of, say, some hot senior football player who takes interest in the bookish freshman that I'll be."

"This is the time for us to reinvent ourselves, Bell. You don't have to be bookish."

"I am, though," I snorted, pulling a book from my back pocket and thumbing through the pages to cement my point. He took it from my hands and set it aside, his index fingers returning to hook mine and hold them. I twisted my hands until his were no longer upon mine and poked at his chest. "And you are, too. I mean, what other thirteen-year-old uses terms like _reinvent ourselves_? There's no smooth brain going on there."

"Yeah, _smooth brain_; you really are bookish. I'll bet your future football boyfriend thinks that's a compliment." He laughed, his hands coming back to mine. I laughed with him, knowing that a wrinkly brain was best, and let his fingers curl around mine. He scooted closer, his knees pressing hard against mine, and I straightened out my legs to fit them on either side of him as he knelt between them. "So, do we just go for it?" he asked quietly, his words close enough to feel, and I shrugged. His gaze flickered from my eyes to my lips and back again, and I watched as his pink tongue pushed out and snaked across his bottom lip. I was transfixed and terribly afraid, but I leaned closer anyway. He licked his lips once more, his eyes widening further, and he whispered, "On the count of three?"

"Yeah, that'll work," I sighed, leaning so close to him that I could feel the heat coming from his lips as he breathed. I let my eyelids flutter closed, my hands holding a death grip on his, and I began our countdown to our very first kiss. "One, two—"

His mouth collided with mine, pushy lips and clanging teeth, and I couldn't tell if I was being tongue-bathed or if I was being kissed, but when I opened my eyes, Edward was there and I pressed my hands hard against his chest.

"What?" he asked, his eyes wild and his mouth panting.

"You tried to drown me in saliva," I cried, disgusted. The back of my hand wiped away the remnants of our amateurish kiss and I leaned over to transfer the offending liquid to the material of his jeans. He looked down at it and scoffed, and I held up a hand to stop him. "Try it again, but this time, less licking. I'm not an ice cream cone."

"Sorry," he said, staring down at the place where his knee met my thigh. "I was just excited, I guess."

"Well, calm down, mister, and concentrate." I palmed his cheeks with my hands and guided us back to the place we'd been before everything had gone awry. "I've read about this before at least a hundred times. Just go slow."

His bottom lip brushed against mine and I couldn't fight the chill that coursed through me, despite the balmy summer night, and my hands fell to settle upon his shoulders. I hoisted myself up as our lips came together and pulled apart over and over, his tongue locked away behind plush lips and quiet whimpers, and I leaned as close to him as I could, his body leaning back against the side of the tree house to hold us up. Simple and light turned fierce and needy – curious, above all – and his hands roamed my back as I licked at his lips. When his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my t-shirt, just barely touching my back, I pressed myself harder against his mouth and he gasped, shuddered against me, before he pulled away.

"Did you just—" I half-asked after a moment of staring at his reddened lips, his closed eyes. He did not open either of them – not a gaze, not a word – and I gasped as I fought to fend off an ill-timed giggle. "Oh, god, Edward, it's—don't—It's okay—"

The clunking sounds of Emmett's heavy boots infiltrated the awkward bumbling that had come from my lips and moments later, he appeared in the doorway of the tree house, his heavy frame causing the wooden planks to creak as he balanced upon them, too large to crawl inside. He eyed us – Edward, mostly – then broke out into thunderous laughter, our bruised lips giving us away. I avoided his stare, his wide, teasing grin, and picked up the discarded book, my eyes settling on the pages, but seeing no words.

"Don't pretend like I didn't just catch you," he said, his arm reaching in to pluck the book from my clutching fingertips. "You two were totally going at it."

"Emmett, don't be a brute," I scolded, leaning forward to try to wrangle my book back. His fingers curled around it tightly and I tried to pry them off one at a time, but found the whole effort more than fruitless. Still, I tried; deflected, because if he was set on taunting me with literature, he, surely, couldn't tease me about the redness of my lips and the look of shock, or something akin to it, on Edward's face. "Give it back, you beast."

"You hear that, Eddie? The lady wants her virginity back." He roared laughter as I squealed in disgust and batted at his biceps with my palms. "Calm down, little spitfire," Emmett chuckled, his fingers wrapping around my wrists. "I'm just fucking with you two. But, shit, kids, don't ever let me catch you doing that – you know, _it_."

"We're _thirteen_, Emmett. I don't think you have to worry about that," Edward spat from the corner of the room and Emmett released my wrists to hold up his hands in defeat. I looked back at Edward and saw that his cheeks were crimson, now, as mine had been before, and there was anger in the color, not anticipation. "What the hell are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Bella's dad's here," Emmett replied, jerking his thumb toward the house. "You're lucky it was me that came up here. Papa Swan would've put a few holes in you, if he caught you like I did. Mind your hands, little brother."

"Tell him I'll be right there," I sighed, cutting through Emmett's taunting. He nodded curtly and hopped down the ladder, his pounding steps causing vibrations in the wooden floor. I waited until the ground was steady, until we were alone, to turn to Edward. He was staring through the makeshift window, his mouth pinched into an unnaturally tight line, and I laughed awkwardly, tried to lighten the mood. "So, that was interesting."

"Interesting isn't quite the word," he muttered, his eyes shifting to meet mine for a mere second. In them, I thought I saw shame and I feared that we had crossed some invisible line with our curiosity and our needy lips, our forced tromp into adulthood. But then, he looked at me and I saw something I couldn't quite place, until his mouth curled into a smile and he said, "Amazing," so low that I could barely hear him. I blushed and toed the wooden floor with my battered shoe before slouching down and sitting beside him. He looked over at me, leaned in and kissed my cheek, and I smiled grandly at the feeling of being alive. "Sorry about the slobber."

"It's okay. At least it was me and not some hot cheerleader." I snorted as I laughed, the thought of my shy, intelligent best friend hooking a cheerleader too much to bear, and he shoved at my arm until I stopped laughing. "Sorry," I said through the remainder of my laughter. We were quiet for a minute, spurts of leftover giggles filling the silence, until I calmed down enough to blurt out the words I didn't even know my mind was forming. "About what Emmett said – maybe we should do _that_. That way we can screw that up together, too." I covered my mouth after I'd said the words, surprised by my suggestion, and I couldn't bring myself to look over at Edward as I backpedaled. "Not right now, I mean. But, like, you know, later. Like, if by the time we're set to graduate, like, of legal age and all, if we haven't, _you know_, maybe we should."

"Sex? You're saying you'd have sex with me?" he whispered the words as if they were dirty, which they _were_, and I brought myself to glance over at his wide eyes and hands tugging at his wild hair. I chewed my lip and nodded, shrugged. "Really?"

"I mean, let's be honest here. That's a life skill that we're going to need," I said while nodding, trying to make sense of it all as I spoke, "and we already know that you're a little quick on the draw. Wouldn't want that to happen with Miss America Cheer Queen or anything, you know?" Edward cringed and I tried not to laugh, but a giggle escaped me, anyway. He covered his face with his hands and I reached over to pat his wrist, wrap my fingers around them and pull them away. "Don't be embarrassed. It's just me."

"Yeah, it's just _you_ and I couldn't hold it together," he sighed, frustration laden in his words, and pulled his hands away from mine. I cringed a bit, not wanting to be thought of in such a general, flippant manner, but let it slide. After all, I had made _that_ happen – at least, in part – and that had to count for something, even if I was just _me_. "Maybe your idea does have some merit."

"Well, I don't want to force you or anything—"

"Isabella Marie, don't make me come up there," Charlie bellowed from the ground below us. I could practically hear his foot tapping impatiently on the dewy grass, could see the vein in his forehead that always emerged when he got frustrated. I looked over to Edward and rolled my eyes, my feet moving me closer to the entryway as Charlie yelled, "I mean it."

"You wouldn't be forcing me," Edward said, his words hitting the back of my neck as I grabbed the side of the doorway to lower myself down. When I turned to face him, to tell him that I _really_ had to go, his lips met mine and I gasped against them. He took hold of the opportunity, of my open mouth, and slipped his tongue inside. It wasn't the drooling mess that it had previously been and it was actually kind of nice, gentle. He broke away slowly, his lips nipping at my own as he let me go, and I smiled sheepishly as I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. "Better?"

"Much better," I told him, nodding. "I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"Peanut butter and Fluff for me, please?"

"I know," I laughed, climbing down the steps. When I reached the bottom, I stared up at him and waved as I walked off with Charlie, who seemed to be particularly grumpy. I let it slide until we reached the cruiser, when I'd had enough of his quiet bumbling words beneath his moustache, and I sighed loudly as he started the engine. "What's wrong with you?"

"Maybe I didn't want to end my weekend watching Edward Cullen shove his tongue into your face," Charlie answered, backing out of the driveway. "When we get home, young lady, there are some birds and some bees that we need to talk about."

However many shades of red are known to man, in that instant, I turned all of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**The "AwkWard" Contest****  
****Story Title: It Just Happened That Way****  
****Pen name: queenofgrey & bananapancakes7 (collab)****  
****Disclaimer: Rated M for secondhand embarrassment & horrible sex**  
_To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:_  
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

* * *

Edward stood on the other end of the cafeteria, presiding over a table of his subjects, and smiled grandly down at them as he pantomimed swinging a bat and then, distastefully, what looked like the slapping of someone's behind. I absently took a bite of my peanut butter and Fluff sandwich and sighed, my cheek resting on my open palm as I watched him, and tried to figure out when it had come to this, when he'd become high school royalty and I'd become a social pariah. My mind always zeroed in on one person, one event – Jessica Stanley and The Great Hickey Debacle of Freshman Year – that had changed him, but I knew that it was more than that. Our friendship fell apart slowly over time, like a constant weathering away, an eroding, and now, there was nothing left.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," Angela's voice trilled, A's extended in a sing-song manner as she tried to focus my attention back on her. She was talking to me, had been for minutes, but I wasn't listening. I was hardly ever listening when Edward was in the room. He sucked all of my attention span dry, like a black hole, and there was never anything left for anyone else. "Were you listening to a word I said?" I shrugged and glanced at her minutely, before looking back at Edward. He was seated now, with a cheerleader draped across his lap, and I grimaced, well aware that cheerleaders didn't even cheer for baseball, but they certainly cheered for him. "Of course not," Angela sighed, looking over her shoulder at Edward, before looking back at me and pinching my chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Focus, Bella. You have a speech to write."

"No one cares what the Valedictorian has to say; let alone, what _I_ have to say," I mumbled, looking down at the blank index cards before me. I tore off another bite of my sandwich and swallowed it down with a loud gulp before saying, "They should just let _him_ make the damn speech. Everyone _loves_ Edward."

"His GPA is nearly negative, Bella, and not everyone loves him, just you."

"I do not," I said angrily and mowed down the remainder of my sandwich before my mouth could confess that I had lied. I gulped down the rest of my water and sighed, looking around at my peers. "God, I hate this place."

"We'll be rid of it in a mere two days," she reminded me and reached across the table to pat my fidgeting hands. I pulled them away, raked them through my hair, and let myself giggle a little bit when we both pushed our glasses up our noses at the same time. "See, there's a smile. Now write your damn speech, or I'll march right over there and remind him of—"

"That's totally invalid, now," I huffed, cutting her off. "He's _clearly_ no longer a virgin. I mean, just look at the way she's hanging all over him." Angela followed my gaze to Pom-Pom-Toting McSlutface and the way her thighs straddled his lap. He whispered something against her neck and she bounced with laughter, causing his hands to tighten on her hips. I had to look away, then. "It's disgusting."

"Two days, Bella. That's all. Just two days."

I nodded and picked up my pen, began to write words that I would later edit into oblivion, while Angela studied for her AP Chemistry final. I thanked the heavens for her, as I wrote. For, if not for her, I'd be completely alone. Without a doubt, she would be worked into my speech somehow. The bell rang, pulling me from the scattered words I'd penned, and I sighed as I looked up just in time to see Edward palming Pom-Pom's ass as they walked off together.

"Two more days."

Graduation was set to start at noon on Saturday, but I was told to arrive at ten-thirty. I stood alone with sweating palms in the girl's locker room and teetered back and forth in my heels and awkward-fitting dress as I recited my speech under my breath. I didn't know why I was required to arrive so long before everyone else had to – eleven-thirty – but I thought it might have been one final blow dealt by the hell that was high school to really cement the fact that I hated the place. _Yes, Bella, you must arrive early, stand uncomfortably in a sweltering room, and focus on the fact that you barely have your speech memorized; that sounds like an excellent way for you to finish out your already-terrible high school experience. Go team. _

By the time the other students had arrived, I had the speech mostly down, though I'd lost most of my breakfast and the rest would no doubt be willing to reappear at the podium. Angela was one of the first ones to arrive, other than myself, and she rubbed reassuring circles on my back as she recited the speech along with me, encouraging as always. I nearly felt sure of myself as we lined up for the procession, but that was until Edward came busting through the hallway doors. His hair was a mess, as always, and his button-down shirt was askew and unbuttoned, and there on his neck, as the crown jewel, was a bright purple mark not dissimilar to the one that had began the downfall of our everything. He was freshly fucked, or so I could presume, and the anger that boiled within me was unbearable. I was supposed to be the one leaving marks on him right before graduation. That was supposed to be me.

"Whoa there, tiger," Angela whispered, clutching my hand, and I dug my nails into her skin, unable to stop myself. "Okay, ouch," she winced, prying my fingers from her palm. "That hurt. And stop growling."

Edward had the gall to smirk at me as he walked by us, and Angela had to hold me back to keep me from lunging at him and plucking out his eyeballs with my fingertips. I didn't have much time to fight and squirm against her, as the music kicked up and it was forward march into graduation and the rest of our lives. I took deep, huffing breaths, trying desperately to calm myself down – to no avail, of course – and as we entered the auditorium, my entire mind went blank. I could think of nothing – no words from my speech, nothing from my first draft, not even what year it was – but his damn smirk and that glaring purple mark of love from someone that couldn't possibly love him like I did. But, I didn't love him – no, not in that moment. I detested him, loathed him, wanted to do horrible things to his genitals and not in a good way. But, mostly, I just wanted to make it out of high school alive.

I sat in my seat on the stage and stared blankly at the audience, at the families and loved ones of the sea of people at my feet, and tried desperately to conjure up any part of my speech as the beginning of the ceremony rolled on. Before I knew it, my name was being called, the obviously mistaken awarded title of Valedictorian attached to it, and I was called to the podium. I stood on shaking legs, feeling like a newborn giraffe, and stumbled over to where Principal Greene stood, only tripping once along the way, and nervously shook his hand.

"I'm proud of you, Miss Swan," he said quietly, away from the microphone. I smiled and nodded, all the while thinking, _Just give me one minute and I'll totally ruin that for you_. He clapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Give 'em hell."

The microphone squeaked as I approached it and adjusted it downward to accommodate my lacking height, and I watched as my classmates laughed at me. My cheeks flared the brightest shade of red that they'd seen since Charlie and The Birds and The Bees, and there was absolutely nowhere that I could run and hide. Instead, I squinted to find Angela's smiling face in the back of the room – damn you, alphabetical order – and cleared my throat as I begin to wing it.

"So, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Isabella No-Please-Call-Me-Bella Swan, and I'm this year's Valedictorian," I said quietly into to microphone, then backed off to clear my throat. I wiped my palms on the lower part of my dress and located Angela again, who had a look of shock on her face, so I opted to stare at the wall as I spoke again. "What does that mean, exactly, this Valedictorian word? Well, for me, it meant four long years of books and papers and no social life at all, which made my dad pretty happy, and it meant getting better grades than any other member of the student body." As the words _member_ and _body_ came out of my mouth, my eyes landed on Edward and my cheeks burned a little brighter as I nearly choked on my own spit. "So, yeah, I know I don't sound abundantly smart right now, but I assure you that I am. I, certainly, don't have a jock's GPA. You know what I mean?" Edward turned to Ben Cheney beside him and snickered as they talked quietly, their eyes darting back up to me a few times. It was then that I knew I had to get off the stage as fast as humanly possible, or the rest of my speech would resemble the telltale sounds of vomit. "That said, I'll just move this thing along and say congratulations, guys. We did it."

The rest of the ceremony was a complete blur and I spent the whole of it, even the part where I accepted my diploma and posed for a picture with Principal Greene against a tacky backdrop, swallowing down bile and crossing my fingers. When we all aligned for our coordinated exit, I walked in double-time and headed straight for the nearest bathroom once out of the auditorium. I barely made it through the door before the contents of my stomach erupted into the sink and I began wailing with my fists beating against the mirror. I stayed that way for a while, bent and heaving, my nose running, until I heard the hinges of the door swing open. I righted myself and clutched for a paper towel, but it was too late. Edward's reflection stared back at me in the mirror and his mouth hung agape at the sight of me. I couldn't blame him; even I found myself repulsive.

"Bella," he said quietly and it was the first time he'd said my name to me in ages. I couldn't look at him and, instead, covered my face with a paper towel as I fought against bile once more. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I scoffed, the edge of the paper towel fluttering against my breath, and leaned back against the wall. "You, obviously, haven't been looking that hard. I've been right in front of you for the last two years, but you haven't said a damn word to me in all that time." The words sounded as bitter as they tasted, and I bent over the sink once more to wretch. I caught sight of him staring at me in the mirror and I groaned, tears snaking down my fiery cheeks. "Get the hell out of here," I managed between heaves, my voice strained and choked with cries. "Go."

"Bella, I'm not going anywhere." He moved closer to me then, which was the wrong move to make, and as I turned to bat away his hand that came to rest on my back, I vomited all over his shiny leather shoes. "Jesus, Bella!" He jumped back, away from me, and I found a little bit of embarrassing satisfaction in knowing that I puked on Forks High's Golden Boy. I watched as he removed his shoes, tossed them into the sink, and covered the spot on the ground where my breakfast now resided with paper towels. He sighed and padded back over to me in socked feet and I gaped at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I really need to talk to you," he said quietly. "So, clean up and then—"

"Honestly, Edward, you can't say anything of importance to me anymore," I spat, my head throbbing with an angry rush of blood. It wasn't true and I knew it wasn't, but I was trying to make it so. Edward wasn't the same as he once was and, after today, after I exited the sleepy town of Forks for a big name university where people would love me for my mind, I wouldn't be the same, either. "Don't you have some slut to tend to?"

"Our deal, Bella, I—"

"Yeah, yeah, Edward. I know. It's off and has been for a long time," I sighed, weary now. "You don't need to verbally break our verbal contract. I get it."

"Bella, no, I—"

"Edward, let me put this in stupid jock terms for you: fuck off."

He stood before me with a stern look to his face, his cheeks flaring an awful, angry shade of red, before huffing and turning. The door slammed shut with vicious finality and I knew that whatever we once had was gone for good, eroded completely and washed away with the sharp sting of my tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**The "AwkWard" Contest****  
****Story Title: It Just Happened That Way****  
****Pen name: queenofgrey & bananapancakes7 (collab)****  
****Disclaimer: Rated M for secondhand embarrassment & horrible sex**  
_To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:_  
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

* * *

Peaches and Herb had it completely wrong; _reunited and it feels so goo-ood_, was such a blatant lie. There was nothing good about the feeling of my heart palpitating abnormally fast beneath my ribcage, nor the way my forehead had broken out with a thin layer of sweat; I was simply uncomfortable. I never harbored a desire to see my classmates from Forks High ever again, but Angela had begged and I was at her mercy, as it had been at least three years since she'd made it out to the East coast – what, with the baby and all – and I simply refused to subject myself to life in Forks, even for a visit. That was no way to treat a best friend, or so she told me, and so I was back in Forks, staring up at the flickering neon sign of the Forks Tavern. It felt like eons and yesterday all at once, and it was very unsettling, especially in my esophageal region – a stinging, shameful reminder of my last time with the Forks High crowd. Ten years; God, how time flies.

I took a steadying breath, pulled open the door of the tavern, and made a beeline for the bar. My hands ached to wrap around a crisp, cold lager, and I hoped it would stem the bubbling of bile in the back of my throat. I hadn't cause to be nervous, really, as life had been vastly successful for me in the past decade, but, still, these people were the bane of my childhood existence. If I wasn't nervous, that would worry me more than the prospect of vomiting. At least, in the bathroom, bent over a toilet, I could hide from them.

"There you are!" Angela exclaimed, hugging my neck from behind. She had become one of those happy, shiny new mommies who think that the entire world is made of sunshine and rainbows and hugs; if it was anyone else, I would've slain them on sight. I turned around and hugged her back, my arms crushing around her shoulders as she laughed loudly into my ear. It felt good to be welcomed back with such warm, friendly arms. "God, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I told her with a smile, and then cast my eyes around the room, my beer raised and gesturing to Mike Newton who'd gained a good hundred pounds and four children via Jessica 'Hickey Whore' Stanley's vagina. I didn't know if I pitied him or wanted to laugh at him; either way, I was thankful that I was not Mr. or Mrs. Michael Newton. "These other clowns, not so much."

"Fuck 'em," she whispered, hand cupped next to her mouth as if her baby were around to hear her, and I batted at her shoulder and laughed. "Come on, let's grab a table, so we can laugh at them from a good vantage point."

Over the next hour, I took full advantage of the open bar and probably had a nice little keg rolling around in my stomach. I briefly wondered if my organs were trying to do keg stands in there, but thought better of it; rather, Angela handed me another beer and thinking, in general, went out the window. I nursed it slowly, savoring the flavor of it as the room began to tilt, and, at first, I wasn't sure if I had imagined him. Was that even him? Really? Edward didn't have a beer gut, but _those eyes_, and, as if she were reading my mind, Angela piped up with, "Yep, how the mighty have fallen."

"Really?" I gasped, my jaw dropping in a nearly comical manner. "What the hell happened to him?"

"He peaked in high school. He's looked like that for the better part of the last five years or so." I looked back to Angela, trying to discern whether or not this was all some kind of elaborate prank to make me feel better about myself, but there was nothing but stark honesty in her eyes, or so my drunken brain told me. She leaned in close, her elbows squeaking against the lacquered table, and pointed her thumb in his direction. "You know, rumor has it that he was a virgin until, like, twenty-two. I _cannot_ believe that, but wouldn't it be fucking hilarious, if it were true?"

"There's no way—all the sluts and—no." My brain was moving quicker than my mouth and it all came out in a jumble, but Angela probably understood what I was trying to say, anyway; we had that best friend, same wavelength thing, or something like that. All those years ago, in the bathroom after graduation, that had been what he wanted, after all; well, if it was true. Angela grinned hugely, a devious look in her eye, and she laughed loudly as she waved him over to us, the wavelength of sameness obliterated with the action. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"You should ask him about his cherry," she whispered as he nodded in recognition, a smile on his mouth, and started over to us. I smiled back politely, before turning my head away from him and chugging the remainder of my beer. I needed another to teleport itself from the bar to our table, immediately. Instead, it was as if Edward teleported and I wondered how a beer gut like that could move so quickly. "Hey, Edward," Angela's voice chimed. "How've you been?"

"Ang, you saw me yesterday," he laughed, knocking his knuckles against her shoulder like they were old pals. "I'm good." He turned his gaze to me, then, and I looked everywhere but at him. "Bella," he said cordially and I nodded, mumbled something about grabbing a beer.

"No, no, you two haven't seen each other in ages. Catch up and I'll go get it."

Angela was gone before I could protest, before I could press the pads of my fingers around her neck and strangle the life out of her, and I shifted awkwardly as Edward took up residency on her abandoned stool. I could feel him staring at me and I decided to bite the bullet and make cordial conversation until Angela returned, because, really, it was just unbearable. However, when I opened my mouth to say, "So, you and Ang, like, hang out or something?" it came out sounding like, "So, your cherry at twenty-two, huh?" and he gave me a sideways glance before whispering, "You're pretty."

Before I knew it, I sidled up to him, my hands dragging across the table with the movement, and my mouth was on his neck; I blamed the beer entirely, but it felt nice to be wanted, accepted in this crowd, especially by him. He responded immediately, his hands fitting to my hips and pulling me onto his lap. What I felt there, pressing into my thigh didn't seem too disappointing, so I poked a finger lightly into his beer gut and smiled, "You'll do," against his neck.

He kept an apartment above the tavern, which explained what happened to his stomach, and we stumbled up the back steps, laughing at nothing and everything, and I tried to picture him as his former self as I watched his behind sway in front of me. When we reached his door, he fumbled the key in the lock and pulled me to him as he pushed the door open. We met at the mouth and his back met the door, leaning against it as it closed behind us, and I wondered where the hell the wonderful kisses of my youth had gone. He kissed like a fish, all puckered lips and biting; he was a piranha and it was not, by any means, sexually arousing. I opted for his neck, instead, then lower, and lower, still – skipping over his bulbous middle – until I was face-to-crotch and he groaned above me.

"Bella, I've dreamed of this for so—"

I couldn't hear him anymore and I didn't know if I wanted to, because his dick was out and it was staring me in the face and I couldn't focus on anything but the crown of foreskin and the way it took a slight turn to the left. It was like a science experiment to me – having only been with cut, straighter-than-not penises in the past – and I had to concentrate, but the beer was making my brain slosh, so I licked the head and pulled the foreskin back. He groaned and grabbed at my hair, shoved my mouth down on him, and I gagged, but I didn't know if it was from the feel of it hitting my throat crookedly, or in general disgust. Something didn't taste right about it and I desperately wanted to brush my teeth or drink another beer.

_Okay, I cannot handle The Leaning Tower of Peen in my face_, I thought to myself, and then suggested aloud, "Hey, let's take this to the bedroom," because, maybe it's one of those dicks that hits all of the right places that normal man-junk can't hit because they're straight, and I kind of wanted to find out. He pulled me up by my arms and tried to fish-face me again, but I couldn't, I just couldn't, because somewhere deep down, I wanted him and had for a while and I wasn't going to let him ruin the moment – he'd spent the whole of high school ruining it.

"What, you don't want to kiss me?" he scoffed, offended.

"You kiss like a fish, Edward."

From there, it was like we were two completely different people. We weren't playing nice, weren't playing fair – we were being honest, ourselves – and the way he shoved me toward the bedroom was kind of hot. I walked ahead of him on clumsy, drunken feet and tried not to yelp as he knocked me down onto the bed, the whole of his weight pressing down on me. He made quick work of removing my top and I threw my head back against the pillows as his fish lips nipped and sucked on my breasts. It was okay, but it wasn't perfect, and then it was ruined when his hands got involved. He was turning my nipples between his fingertips like he was trying to unlock a safe and it was entirely uncomfortable.

"Edward, baby," I cooed, trying to add sugar to the sour words that would follow. "This isn't high school and I'm not a fucking locker; 18-24-30 is not going to work."

He gave me a sideways glance, his glassy eyes making it less threatening than he probably meant for it to be, and then he returned his mouth to my nipples, while his hands worked on removing my jeans. I grabbed his hair – one of the only things that was still achingly beautiful about him – as he descended, his hands tugging my jeans off entirely as he lowered himself to where I once ached for him, but where I only moderately needed him, now. It was then that I became instantaneously sober and remembered my lack of landscaping. I hadn't anticipated a romp with Edward, or anyone, when I returned to Forks, and my love life had been lacking for a month or so, so I hadn't bothered to keep up with waxing. I knew it when Edward found it, when he peered down upon the jungle that was contained beneath my lace panties like a hunter in a helicopter over lush landscape. I knew it because of the groan, and then to drive the point home, he said, "What is this, the rainforest?"

My knee connected with his chin as I squirmed beneath him, and he rolled off of me to remove his clothes. I couldn't look, mainly because I was laughing too hard, and partially because I really didn't want to see what he'd done to himself over time. I heard him tear open a condom wrapper and waited as he put it on, not really sure what kind of anxiety was pitting in my stomach. He was back on top of me before I knew it and the gentle press of his lips against my neck was okay as he rocked himself up and down between my folds, but then I felt the socks that were still on his feet and it was no longer anything near okay.

"Is it in yet?" I muttered, only half joking and growing impatient, and he shocked me as he thrust in hard as his response. I grunted at the feel, the way his cock burrowed deep within me, and I thought that maybe it wasn't all that bad, that he could make me feel pretty good. He started a shaky rhythm and I pressed my hips up to him to try to steady it out. "Harder," I begged, wanting to feel something akin to pleasure, but he was already breaking a sweat. I moved my hands from his back to his ass to help guide him, but I was met with the feel of a forest beneath my hands. I thought, _Touché, Gorilla Man_, as I stifled a giggle and waited for him to get off, completely uninterested in whatever was happening inside of my vagina from that point forward.

"Bell, could you maybe—_Jesus Christ—_could you get on top?"

"No," I answered flatly, and then faked a moan, acting like I was enjoying things from my end. I kept it up – the groaning and grunting and "Oh, Edward, yes, _YES_" – and worked out my Kegel exercises every now and then so he'd think I was nearing an ecstasy that I would not reach. "Come on, baby, cum for me," I whispered, glad that his face was buried in my neck so he couldn't see my bored expression, the lies in my clear, sober eyes. "I'm so close."

"God, Bella," he sighed, turning his head to kiss my ear. I squirmed at the slobbery feel of it, but played it off nicely, as if I was writhing in pleasure, and pulsed around him again to try to bring his orgasm about. The clock was ticking and there was still plenty of beer downstairs. If he came within the next minute or so, I could still drink enough to get drunk again and then sober up before sunup. I could practically taste the beer on my tongue as my cries increased and I clutched his shaking upper arms, contracting around his dick as hard and fast as I could. He stilled inside of me and I nearly thought I'd done it, that it was over, but the scowl on his face told me otherwise; there was no shudder like in the tree house of our youth. I wiped his sweat from my brow, wiped it onto the bed sheets, and asked him, breathless, "What?"

"You fucking faked it."

"I did not," I scoffed.

"You did." He rolled off me then and stood up, naked and sweating in all of his glory before me. I cringed a little bit, then got back to my act of heavy breathing, trying to make it believable that I'd just experienced the most intense pleasure this world had to offer. "Bella, cut the shit. I had my penis inside of you. I can feel these things. And, by the way, you sounded like an opera singer; a really bad one."

I was on my feet before I knew it, nearly tripping over my discarded shoes, and as I turned to grab my clothes from the floor, I saw Edward holding a handful of fuchsia: my underwear. I curled my lip, unsure whether to laugh or cry at this sex-disaster, when he spoke.

"Even so, do you mind if I keep these?"

_Oh, for God's sake. Fuck this creepy, panty-keeping pervert. _He probably wanted to put them on later to prettify his crooked mancrank. I snatched my underwear from him, and before he could say anything else, I was shoving him, hard, out of his bedroom and in the direction of his front door. I knew he was raised to never hit a woman, so I felt safe as I shoved him with all of my might out of his own apartment door and into the hallway. After much struggling, I got the lock clicked into place and his fists thumped heavily on the wood. I leaned back against it and laughed, then walked back into the bedroom to reclaim my clothing, which I fleetingly thought of burning once I had something else to wear. I traipsed back to the door and checked the peephole as I pulled on my shirt, and saw Edward standing there, fuming, with nothing but a sock hanging from his dick. _Ha, serves you right for leaving those on in bed._

"Bella, Bella, please let me in. Bella, please. Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out. We should've done it in high school. We could've learned together. It could've been good," he said through the door as I finished dressing. I spotted his keys on the table beside the door and laughed to myself as I formed a plan. Edward continued his begging, "Please, it could've been so good. I can make it good for you."

I opened the door a crack and slipped through it quickly, coming face-to-face with him in the hallway. I quickly locked the door and tossed the keys straight down the stairwell, where a little crowd had formed and were laughing hysterically at Edward and his attire, essentially locking him out of his own apartment. He gaped at me and turned as red as I had as a child, but I was cool and collected as I told him, "Yeah, good thing that didn't happen in high school. I'd probably be a lesbian by now." I sauntered down the stairs, collecting a bevy of high-fives from the people who once failed to notice my existence, and beamed at Angela when I saw her mixed in with them. "Thanks for nothing, Eddie," I shouted over my shoulder.

"You slept with him?" Angela gasped as I neared her.

"It just kind of happened that way, yeah, but I wouldn't call it sleeping with him, by any means. It was more like being mauled or something." I grabbed her by the arm and headed for the front door. "Come on, let's go before he drags his sock-covered peen down here after me."

As the doors parted and I stepped out into the night, I felt like a queen for the first time; no longer awkward or insecure, for I had toppled the king and stolen his crown and it felt _so goo-oood_.


End file.
